


Land of Shadows

by Miyuki_scourgeofthefirenation



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Diviners Series - Libba Bray
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, M/M, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, POV Sokka (Avatar), POV Zuko (Avatar), Past Child Abuse, Period Typical Attitudes, Slow Burn, Societal Issues, Spoilers for The Diviners ending, alternate universe - The Diviners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyuki_scourgeofthefirenation/pseuds/Miyuki_scourgeofthefirenation
Summary: The year is 1932. America is in the midst of the Great Depression. Across the country new powers are awakening. Some good, some evil. It’s up to them to restore the balance.(Avatar: The Last Airbender meets The Diviners)
Relationships: Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Ling Chan & Henry DuBois, Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 41





	1. Journey - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I came across a writing prompt on Tumblr (because of course I did) from promptlywritingideas. This is the prompt for reference:
> 
> Imagine Person A of your OTP having superpowers, but they only work when Person B is nearby.
> 
> They keep coming up with more and more ridiculous excuses to be near B, who, of course, is starting to suspect that A has a crush on them.
> 
> What happens next is up to you.
> 
> And my brain went, COOL. Then, while considering how to make this work I also realized I wanted to do something different, fun, unique you know? That’s when I remembered my great love, the book series The Diviners. Which features a fun thing where their powers work better when they are all together. And then my brain went, OOOOH. So, now, here it is. The Diviners/Avatar crossover nobody expected and likely nobody wanted. But my brain went, OOOHH SHINY, and ran full tilt towards it, so who am I to stop it?
> 
> Further explanations of the world will be happening in the upcoming chapters. I don’t think you need to have read The Diviners to understand and enjoy the story, but the books are very good and I highly recommend you do read them if you are so inclined.

Zuko has to keep running. He can’t stop no matter what. Can’t give Ozai even the slightest chance to catch up to him. He keeps running.

He runs away from his house. Runs away from Washington D.C. Runs away from everything he knows. Maybe if he runs fast enough and far enough he can manage to run away from the memories burning through his mind even now.

Memories of what should have been a happy family life, always undercut with a current of fear. Memories of his mother’s deportation, even though his father should have, did have, the power to stop it. Memories of how his father didn’t want to stop it. 

And now, more recently, memories of his father’s face, his father’s words as he hissed that Zuko had brought dishonor upon their family. Memories of his father picking up the teapot filled with boiling water. Memories of it smashing against the side of his face, raining down fire and porcelain around him.

Here’s where the memories stop making sense to Zuko though, because they can’t make sense anymore. In that instant of memory the burning had ceased to exist only outside him, and instead now took root throughout his entire body. His hands grew hot as he used them to pull himself up against the dining table. So hot he could have sworn they could catch on fire. So hot that in his pain addled mind it seemed as though they did catch the table on fire.

But that couldn't be right. The fire must have started some other way Zuko rationalized, even now sprinting away from the fire somewhere behind him. People can’t just start fires with their hands.

He makes it to the train station, and takes the first train heading west he can find. The only thought he allows his mind to have is “RUN.”

* * *

He’s halfway across Virginia before he realizes that he should have taken Azula with him. She’s only fifteen, and likely wouldn’t have wanted to leave their father, but he still should have tried. Shouldn’t have left her there to his cruel whims, even if he always had favored her. Zuko might have cried at the thought, but it was as though the fire was still within him, burning him up and drying him out. Leaving him unable to do anything but find a way ahead. A way out.

Zuko switches trains in Nashville. He still keeps his course headed due west, with no plan of where to go exactly. Somehow he has a feeling he’ll know when he gets there.

It’s daytime now, and Zuko pulls his hat lower to cover his face. He hasn’t looked in a mirror yet, hasn’t wanted to face whatever it is that he knows he’ll find when he does. As additional protection against the prying eyes of other passengers he leans against the window. With the way his hat is tilted, and face angled away from the aisle no one can get a good look at him. This has another practical purpose beyond hiding his injury. After all, it is unlikely the everyday people of middle America are used to seeing Asian people all that often. Even less likely that they’ll be inclined to be welcoming to him, he thinks darkly. So he stays pressed up against the window, long after it has become uncomfortable for him.

* * *

Zuko arrives in Oklahoma City without incident. He takes care with getting off the train, and with making arrangements to board another one. Something inside him still says it’s not safe to stop, not yet. There’s something further west he still needs to find.

He receives a few questioning glances as he meanders around the train station. He belatedly realizes that he must seem strange, travelling long distances as he is without any baggage. There’s nothing to be done about that, he only has what was on him at the time he ran. Between the vengeful father and unexplainable fire, gathering up the few belongings that actually mattered to him was not Zuko’s top priority in his moment of escape. He’s lucky he had money in his wallet at the time, and that he had his wallet on him.

With the next train not arriving for an hour or so yet, Zuko heads off to the washroom. Thankfully he finds it empty. After relieving himself and washing his hands he decides it’s now or never. He takes a deep breath and looks up into the mirror, pushing his hat back to see his face fully.

He expected it to be bad, but it’s _bad_ bad. The patch of skin surrounding his left eye and running back up to his ear is raw and red. There are also numerous small cuts marring it, though very few appeared to be bleeding. Perhaps they had been before, but had since stopped. It is also only now, as the adrenaline of his escape begins to wane, that Zuko realizes he can’t truly see out of his left eye anymore. Looking at himself in the mirror he notes that that’s to be expected, given the extent of the damage. But that doesn’t stop his mind from still being confused as it struggles to take in what is now only vague shapes and colors where there used to be full vision.

Zuko grimaces, and begins rummaging through his pockets, hoping to find something to create a makeshift bandage out of. That way at least he can cross the worries about people seeing the wound and reacting negatively off his list. Then all he’ll have to deal with is the potential negative attention stemming from his race. He snorts. He’s at least used to that.

Frowning, Zuko comes to the conclusion that he does not have anything in the way of a handkerchief anywhere. With a sigh he takes off his jacket, and rips one of the pockets out. He somehow manages to attach the cloth to his face, and pulls his hat back on and down low over it. While the bandage is a better look than the brutal injury, it still has the potential to raise more questions than Zuko wants to answer. He casts a last glance towards the mirror, then turns to go find a place to wait for his train.

* * *

It’s when the train crosses into New Mexico that he feels it. A beckoning of some sort. A sense that this is where he needs to get off. That’s how he finds himself standing out in the hot New Mexico sun. Steeling himself, he begins to walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry! I will still be updating my other series Days and Nights with the Gaang, but now we have this to play around with too. 
> 
> More tags/characters/relationships will be added to this work as we go. The Diviners folks will show up later in the story, I promise. (I've actually already written a Henry and Ling chapter, for all you Henry and Ling brotp stans out there.)
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr in both fandoms! @miyuki-scourgeofthefirenation and @incorrect-diviners
> 
> I’m rather nervous about the reaction this story is gonna get, so if you enjoy it please, please let me know.


	2. Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse me sir, that’s my emotional support niche interest fanfiction.
> 
> This fic has already led me to researching so many things. At least now I have stuff to do again!
> 
> A shorter chapter here, but that’s how it naturally wanted to run. I feel like the chapters for this story will have a tendency to jump around in terms of length. I’d rather focus on one character’s perspective per chapter, so anytime we switch point of view it’ll be a new chapter then.

Sokka misses the snow. The desert is beautiful, of course it is, how could it not be? But it’s not the same as the snow. Then again, maybe what he misses more is how things used to be. Back when their family still lived in their Alaskan home. Before their mother died. Before their dad chose to join the army and they had to move down here to New Mexico to be close to the base. 

Sokka knows it wasn’t much of a choice though. His dad Hakoda had been a fisherman, and when the Great Depression hit, it hit the fishing industry hard. He couldn’t make a living from that anymore, much less enough of a living to feed his two kids and their grandmother. In a way they were lucky, lucky that Hakoda had the ability to join the army so they could survive. 

But Sokka doesn’t feel lucky when he looks out over the expanse of the desert and is hit with a new and ever growing sensation. A sensation of _wrongness_ somehow. Of being cut off from something he should have. Something he needs desperately to survive.

* * *

Sokka is sitting out on the porch playing solitaire with a beat up old deck of cards when he notices it. He had come out to the porch because somehow it was cooler outside than inside the house. He really hates this damn heat.

As he was shuffling the cards he happened to look up. Though it felt less like an accident, and more like something was telling him to _look up now_.

There’s a figure on the road, moving slowly towards the house. Even from this distance Sokka can tell the gait is uneven, unsure. He stands up slowly, running calculations in his head. Calculations about who it might be, what they might want. It’s probably nothing good. They’re the only family that lives out this way, so whoever it is has to be there for them.

His dad might be in the military, but Sokka knows that there are people that doesn’t matter to. People that only see the color of their skin, and have decided that means they can do whatever they want to them without consequence. No matter that this was _their home_ , and that these other people were the ones trespassing in it. Much like this stranger might be trespassing now.

But Sokka still has to be careful. Military or not the law is not inclined to be on his side. So he runs his calculations. How fast he can reach his knife if he needs to, it’s far too dangerous to have it within easy reach right away. The stranger might use it against him, or worse, might take its presence as a threat and attack immediately. So Sokka waits. And he runs his calculations.

* * *

As the figure draws closer Sokka realizes a few things. First, while from far away he thought it was a man it turns out it is actually a teenager who can’t be that much older than him. Second, the figure is exhausted and seems on the brink of teetering over with the slightest gust of wind. Third, the figure is injured. Once the figure is almost to the path leading from the road to the house Sokka can see the bandage that covers half of his face.

The boy just manages to make it out of the road and onto the path before he gives in to the weight that seems to have been pressing down on him this whole time. He looks up towards the house desperately as his legs give out beneath him, and it’s like Sokka senses rather than hears him softly cry, “Help.”

Sokka runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am taking some liberties with history for this story, sorry about that. Believe me, my historian heart isn’t all that happy either but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. Alaska wasn’t made into a state until 1959, though it was a territory (yay, imperialism *eye roll*) from 1912 until 1959. Due to this I am not sure if people who lived there would have been allowed to join the army. 
> 
> Do I know how exactly the timeline of Project Buffalo works out for all of them to exist? Absolutely fucking not. Don’t worry about it. Don’t look at it. -Nevermind, I decided they’re all natural Diviners like Theta rather than created Diviners. Because it’s my fic and I can do what I want.
> 
> It’ll get funny eventually I promise, this is all just set-up right now.
> 
> If you love me let me knooooowwwww. Seriously, if you enjoyed drop a kudos or comment here.


	3. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back again! Sorry, that took longer than I thought to write. I have too many stories going at once. I bring this upon myself. 
> 
> Please, please, please let me know if you’re liking this story, it motivates me to continue writing it. And I need that motivation for how long I think this story is gonna wind up being.

Zuko wakes up instantly, nothing slow or leisurely about it. A habit picked up from a childhood spent living in fear. Fear of running late, fear of being thought lazy, fear of anything at all that might provoke anger. Fear. But he doesn’t move right away. Another habit picked up from that same fear.

Something is wrong. His eye. He can’t see out of his left eye. Memories of the past couple days begin to rush back to him. Overwhelming and intense. Too intense to contemplate for very long.

So Zuko turns his attention to his surroundings. He is in a small room, on a rickety bed. The room itself features almost no decorations that he can see, and is filled with an unfamiliar sort of hazy light.

New Mexico. He was in New Mexico because… His reasoning behind coming all the way out here seems flimsier somehow now that he is no longer on the run. Now that he doesn’t have to keep moving. Now that he’s stopped moving altogether.

This is a stranger’s house, he thinks. A stranger he can’t even put a face to. He has a dim recollection of coming across the small house, a good distance into the desert and away from other people. Again, something that seems more and more foolish in hindsight.

He closes his eyes. Whoever lives here clearly took him into the house, and he hopes that if they were going to cause him pain they would have done so already. Maybe he’s actually safe. But he knows that’s an awful big maybe.

Zuko probes back into his memories again, even as they make his head ache. There was someone on the porch as he approached the house, he recalls. A man, no a boy. A teenager like him. Then, darkness. The boy must have seen him fall and brought him in here.

What’s truly strange, not that any of what he’s gone through in the past 48 hours can be called normal, but what he keeps fixating on as he lies there is the pain in his head. And how there’s less of it than there should be. He had gotten used to the agony, and now abruptly it is gone and there’s only a dull ache left. 

How is that possible? Has he been unconscious for that long?

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening. A girl sticks her head in. “Oh! You’re awake, good.” She turns and calls out to someone else in the house, “He’s awake! Bring water.” She moves to stand next to the bed, and without waiting for any kind of permission begins to unwrap the bandages around his head and examine his face.

“Um,” he stutters awkwardly, not knowing how to react to that. 

The girl observes him somewhat coldly, “Sorry, but I need to check the wound. You got here rather late after getting it and there’s still a chance for infection.” Zuko just gulps, not having the strength to try and argue with her. Up close he begins to take in more details about her when she’s on his right side and he can actually see her. She has light brown skin, long dark brown hair pulled back into a braid, and surprisingly blue eyes. He’d guess she’s probably Native American, though he doesn’t know which nation she’s from. He can’t remember what nations live out in the New Mexico area.

Zuko supposes she’s pretty, but girls never really were it for him. How much easier his life would have been if they were, he thinks bitterly. A sudden flash of memory hits him. The kettle. The hot water. The fire. He scrunches his eyes closed, and is somehow surprised by the flash of pain that races through his face with the action.

“Stop that,” the girl scolds. “Don’t you go undoing all my hard work. I was out like a light for three hours after healing you.”

He looks at her in confusion. “Wha-” he croaks out, his throat blisteringly dry. He attempts to swallow, but that doesn’t do much good. “What do you mean?”

She isn’t paying attention to him by the time he manages to finish his question though, having walked back over to the door. “Sokka!” she yells, “Where’s that water?” 

Zuko hears another voice distantly yelling back, “I’m working on it! Jeez, next time you can go out to the well and pull up the water yourself…”

“Well, I’m not the one who decided to drag some random fella from off the street into the house!” she flushes a bit when she catches Zuko staring at her. Before either of them can attempt to say anything to alleviate the tension in the room another person is forcing themselves through the door with a large pail of water sloshing all over the place.

This was the boy Zuko had seen when approaching the house, he knows instantly. He’s gotta be the brother of the girl, he has the same light brown skin, dark hair, and disarmingly blue eyes. But where the girl’s eyes were somewhat severe, his are laughing. His dark hair is shorter than the girl’s, and pulled up into a ponytail.

“Hiya, long time no see!” he says in greeting to Zuko. “Well, long time no see for you, not me. I’ve been staring at you for a couple days now,” he freezes. “Shoot, that came out wrong, what I meant was-”

The girl rolls her eyes and pushes him out of the way as she grabs the pail out of his hand. “Your way with words is astonishing. He needs water, not you sweet-talking.” Zuko feels a blush rise in his cheeks when she says that, and is somewhat surprised to see a bit of a blush forming on the other teenager as well. But then the girl is dipping a cup into the pail of water and bringing it up to Zuko’s lips so he can drink. It’s so refreshing he thinks he might cry from it. Well, from that and everything else that has happened within the last 48 hours that is.

He drinks gratefully for a long while, and the two watch him quietly. He watches them back. The boy looks to be just slightly younger than Zuko himself, while the girl is probably around Azula’s age. Azula. A deep chasm of guilt opens in his chest at the thought of his younger sister, left behind to deal with their father alone.

“I’m Sokka,” the voice cuts through the hopeless thoughts taking hold in Zuko’s mind. He looks up again at the boy as he continues to speak. “And that’s Katara. My sister. We saved you.” The girl, Katara, glares at Sokka at that. “Fine then, she saved you. But she wouldn’t have been able to save you if I hadn’t seen you fall down outside and brought you inside which really is what led to the saving in the first place so… I saved you.”

Katara shakes her head at her brother’s ramblings and turns to stare directly at Zuko as though she can see into his soul. “Try to ignore him if you can. What’s your name?”

“Zuko,” he says quietly, somehow afraid that by saying it outloud it’s drawing some sort of unwanted attention to him.

“It’s awful nice to meet you there, Zuko, buddy,” Sokka drawls, “and we can continue with the pleasantries later but right now-” his demeanour instantly shifts from carefree confidence to one of absolute seriousness. “You showed up here looking like a devil was on your tail, so do you want to tell me who or what might be after your hide so we can start figuring out just what we need to do to protect this house?”


	4. The Spirits - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I hope you are doing well. I just wanted to take a moment here to address something.  
> I am not indigenous or Asian. I try very hard to write these characters with sensitivity and kindness and always work at being aware of how I am talking about and portraying them. However, I also am not perfect or immune to potentially including harmful stereotypes or language in this, or any other of my fics. If you happen to notice anything, at any point, that falls into such patterns please let me know. I always want to know so I can work on doing better and fixing any mistakes I do make. Thank you all, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Sokka had never been much of a believer in anything spiritual. He had an appreciation and respect for spirituality and it’s place within his family’s Yup’ik culture, but the connection for him had never been deeper than that. Never something he actively believed in in the same way as Katara and his Gran Gran, Kanna.

However, after Katara discovered she was a healer at the age of 10 Sokka had to learn how to ward the house. Something about Katara’s energy was a beacon of sorts for spirits, both those with good intentions and bad. Following a particularly nasty incident with a spirit when Katara was 11 they started warding the house against all of them, even the good ones Kanna had hoped to be able to help.

Kanna was the one who taught Sokka and Katara how to ward to keep them at bay. They had three lines of protection set up. 

The first was out along the farthest edge of the property. It was easy enough for this line to be disrupted, so it primarily served to slow anything down that might try to get through, as well as give the occupants of the house a warning of something coming.

The second was directly along the outside of the house, right where the base of the building met the ground. Again, easy enough to disrupt but necessary for keeping spirits at bay. The spirits would have a harder time trying to get through the second line of protection if they had already managed to get through the first.

And the third. Inside the house. Along every windowsill, doorway, and crack in the baseboards. The hardest to get through. Their last line of defense. 

Sokka did most of the warding reinforcement these days. Kanna was getting older, and it was challenging for her to walk the length of the property to spread the mixture of herbs and salts out. 

It had to be done, and Sokka was willing to do it. He viewed it as one of the main ways he protected his family. His father Hakoda often had to be gone for longer stretches of time for work, leaving Sokka, Katara, and Kanna at the house alone. 

Hakoda didn’t know much about the spirit incidents, the worst ones tended to happen when he was absent and the other three had long ago decided that he had enough to worry about as it was. He was the main provider for the family after all, during the Depression no less, and there was no use in worrying him about what happened while he was absent. It would only lead to him feeling guilty about having to be gone so much, or worse, he would try to stay more potentially costing him his job. 

No. It was better this way. And so Sokka warded the house.

* * *

Which is what brings Sokka here, now, to this point. Asking this stranger, _Zuko_ , he reminds himself, what he might be bringing along in his wake. Because while Sokka may not be as in touch with the spiritual realm as Katara or Kanna, even he can tell there’s something about this guy that attracts that kinda attention.

Basically Sokka just needs to know if the wards will hold, that’s all. They have so far, but there’s always the possibility of them giving out all at once without warning. Sokka would rather not have that happen. He likes to be prepared. Likes to have a plan. Likes to not have spirits shrieking about bringing death and ruin upon their family. Especially likes to not have another spirit attempt to kidnap him thank you very much. That was deeply unpleasant. His sense of balance hasn’t ever really been the same since.

“...so do you want to tell me who or what might be after your hide so we can start figuring out just what we need to do to protect this house?”

Zuko looks confused and a bit fearful at that. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just wanting to know what I needa be prepared for here,” Sokka states simply, looking down on the boy in the bed. _His_ bed, actually. Sokka has been having to sleep on the floor for the past few days, and he dearly hopes that situation can be remedied soon. The floor, it turns out, is not all that comfortable.

“I…” Zuko hesitates, then it seems as though a wall comes down behind his golden eyes. Eye. The one is still bandaged after all. “I really don’t think anybody followed me here. I was careful the whole way. Didn’t see any stalkers.”

Sokka lets out a low chuckle. “Pal, it might be better if it was that simple. People-” now it is Sokka’s turn to hesitate slightly. His expression clouds a bit as he thinks. He shakes himself out of it and clears his throat. “I can handle people. It’s the other stuff I’m more worried about.”

“Other stuff?” Zuko asks, looking even more confused than before.

“Yeah,” Katara pipes in. “The spirit world. The restless spirits that follow you. It’s alright, they follow me too. We just need to know what your experiences have been like to make sure our wards hold up.”

“Spirit world? Restless spirits? Wards?” Zuko no longer looks confused, but instead looks rather alarmed. “Look, I’m grateful for whatever you did to help me, but I think I should go now. I have no clue what you are talking about!”

Sokka and Katara exchange a look. They have something of sibling telepathy, and over the course of the next few seconds have a nonverbal conversation that consists of them arguing over who has to tell him. Sokka loses and sighs in resignation.

He turns back to Zuko and sits down lightly on the side of the bed. Zuko recoils slightly which Sokka finds irksome considering he had carried the fella from the edge of the property into here AND given up his bed for the last few days AND had to help Katara with the healing process as much as he could AND still go to his measly job at a small store in a nearby town. Here he is just trying to help the guy out, and this is the thanks he gets. He snorts before he can think better of it. Zuko hears and glares at him.

“Well,” Sokka says, forcing fake cheerfulness into his voice. “This could be a long conversation, but I’m gonna keep it simple. Please hold all questions until the end.” He feels rather than sees Katara roll her eyes at this. Sibling telepathy and all. “Spirit world. It exists. I guess. Spirits. They definitely exist. Can be mean sons of bitches too. Katara.” Sokka points behind him at her, and Zuko’s eyes flick over before settling back on Sokka. “Spirit magnet. We had to figure out how to ward the house to keep them out. Otherwise they sometimes try to kill us. Like I said, mean sons of bitches.”

Zuko lets out a nervous laugh and a strangled “Hrrghh” sound. Sokka smiles benevolently and continues. He knows he would have a hard time believing this himself if he hadn’t experienced it first hand.

“Now, here’s the rough part-”

“You mean that wasn’t the rough part?” Zuko asks somewhat snottily. Sokka cocks his head to the side and considers how angry Katara would be if he went ahead and decked the guy with the head injury. Too risky, better not is what he decides on. It’s too bad, the guy really is proving himself rather punchable.

“No, sunshine,” he says instead. “The rough part is that from what Katara and I have witnessed as you were healing here is that you,” he points helpfully at Zuko, ungrateful wretch that he is, “are also a spirit magnet. Which means we likely have trouble incoming.” Zuko gapes at him. Sokka flashes a smile. “Now, does the class have any questions?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to run out of creative ways to ask for kudos and comments so...  
> KUDOS  
> COMMENTS  
> THANK


	5. Drawing Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honey, I rose up from the dead I do it all the time...

“Now, does the class have any questions?”

Zuko has so many questions. None of which he is inclined to ask at this moment though. Not to, well, them. They clearly believe in what they’re saying to him, which Zuko supposes some would find reassuring, but to him just causes more alarm bells to ring in his already ringing head. 

They’re staring at him though, clearly waiting for him to respond. Their startlingly blue eyes seem to bore into him where he lies on the bed. Though how he’s supposed to respond to the malarkey they just told him, he has no idea. Well, that’s not quite true. Zuko has several ideas, most of them along the lines of what his uncle would deem “rude” and “unnecessary” and what his sister would deem “fitting” and “amusing.”

These thoughts of Iroh and Azula hit him. Hard and suddenly. He misses his D.C. home. He misses Uncle Iroh. He misses Azula. In a disturbing way he even misses his father, or at least misses the version of his father that is proud of him. Not that such a version has ever truly existed in Zuko’s memory, but he misses the possibility of that father. But that father is so far out of reach now. Zuko actually went on the run because that father doesn’t exist.

Another pang of guilt flashes through him, causing him to physically wince. Though that could also be a side effect of the still very present head injury he has. He left Azula there. How could he leave her? He should have tried harder, should have found a way to convince her to come with, should have  _ tried _ …

“Ahem.” A small cough shakes Zuko out of his spiralling thoughts. His head snaps up to meet the eyes of the sister. “Look, you obviously have never had to deal with this before…” she pauses and mutters under her breath a bit, “ _ though how I have no idea. _ ” Zuko is about to open his mouth to give into his desires for an angry retort, but she begins speaking again. “So I understand this might be… difficult for you to come to terms with. But it really is vital that you do. And normally I wouldn’t want to pressure you, but time is of the essence here. Do you have any questions? Or any thoughts? Comments? Help you can give us at all? Help we can give you at all?”

Zuko gapes at her. Then he launches into a tirade. Really, it was bound to happen. Had been building up ever since he had woken. “I really have no idea what either of you have been talking about since I woke up! Maybe this is just one strange hallucination, and I’ll wake up to find I’ve actually been taken in by a kindly elderly couple that’ll feed me soup and let me listen to the radio and not talk to me about mumbo-jumbo spirit stuff! Or better yet, I’ll wake up to find this whole thing has been some kinda terrible dream and I’m still in my own bed rather than a cot in the middle of nowhere!” 

Zuko continues to angrily rant, even as a voice inside his head tells him to shut his face already. The siblings didn’t have to take him in and care for him after all. But he’s so confused and angry and scared. Not just from trying to understand what they’ve been telling him, but also from the whole situation that led to him having to flee for his life in the first place. All his pent up rage from the past few days is spewing out now, and Sokka and Katara are just the ones unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire.

It immediately becomes apparent that neither of them are willing to just sit there and take his misguided emotions though. As he lets loose, Katara levels him with a withering stare, before rolling her eyes and stalking out of the room. Everything about her movements communicates her disgust with him, and how she clearly thinks dealing with him when he’s acting like this is beneath her. It is, but in his current state that knowledge only serves to enrage Zuko more. How dare she? She and her stupid brother should have left him outside then.

Sokka’s reaction is quite different, but no less forceful. He starts yelling right back at Zuko, still sitting on the side of the bed. “You ungrateful ass! I lug you in here, let you sleep in my bed, and now you’re really gonna lay there and say those things?! To me and my sister?! My sister, who is the only reason you’re even conscious, let alone alive?!” He continues on, with Zuko still shouting as well. As they go they keep getting louder in volume, as well as getting closer together and more into each other’s faces. At one point Sokka stops speaking English and starts speaking a different language that Zuko doesn’t recognize. Which is the rudest thing yet, as far as Zuko’s concerned. The other boy should at least have the decency to let Zuko know exactly what he’s saying, without switching to another language to curse him out.

* * *

The shouting coming from inside the house is so loud it can be heard from the edge of the property. The walls are thin after all. 

They draw closer, the shouting a beacon. 

The girl is outside, walking towards the well near a sparse line of trees. She’s shaking her head, as if upset. 

They draw closer, her presence a beacon. 

The wards have recently been reapplied, but it no longer matters. The wards are designed to keep her safe, not the boy.  _ Not the boys. _

They draw closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please let me know.


	6. Interlude 1 - Henry and Ling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the ending of The Diviners series in this chapter, just fyi.

Ling awoke unexpectedly in Grand Central Station. She didn’t remember having gone to Grand Central Station, much less having fallen asleep there. That’s how she knows it’s a dream. Which means she’s dreamwalking again. Which hasn’t happened for five years now.

She gets up, an unseen force drawing her over to the arrivals and departures board. She’s not surprised to find Henry already there. She is worried though.

This was supposed to have stopped. This did stop.

“Hiya, Ling,” he says as she draws up alongside him. “What are the odds of us running into each other here?”

Ling just rolls her eyes, entirely too used to her friend's antics to respond further.

“Where do you reckon we should go? I hear Washington DC is lovely this time of year,” he drawls in his southern accent as he gestured to the board.

Ling is puzzled over something, but what? She’s out of practice with her dreamwalking.

It clicks into place, the dreams have always led them in the direction they needed to take. “Why did you say Washington DC?” She asks, turning to look at Henry.

“I..” he falters, the same puzzlement and understanding crossing his face. “It just felt right.”

“That’s the problem,” she mutters.

* * *

They stand like that for a bit before turning to look around at their surroundings.

“Somethings woken up, hasn’t it?” Ling asks, though it’s more of a statement. She already knows the truth. Can feel it. Her and Henry’s presence here alone proves that.

“Yes indeed ma’am,” Henry says. “Though I fear we’re all a little out of practice with hunting the goblins and ghoulies down.” Something in his tone grabs her attention.

“It’s also not our battle to fight this time, is it?” She can see the answer written in the sadness and relief warring in his eyes. They’ve already fought so much. Sacrificed too much. But that doesn’t mean they want others to take on that pain.

“Feels like there’s some new kids on the block,” Henry says, trying to lighten the weight they’re both feeling. “Alas, our youth and beauty never were destined to last. Apparently the ghosts want new teenagers to traumatize.” She shoots him a harsh look. “Whoops. Too soon?”

Sighing she turns back towards the board again, taking in the clues the dream is giving her. “It’s out west this time. They’re out west. Farther than we ever went.”

Henry moves to stand beside her, and carefully rests his hand on her shoulder. “I wish them all the luck we did have, and all the luck that we weren’t fortunate enough to get.”

In a moment of quite un-Ling like sentiment she reached up to put her hand on top of his where it sat on her shoulder. “And when they need us we’ll be there to help.”

“Yep. We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy, please tell me. My motivation has been... suffering lately to say the least.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
